I live in a city sorrow built
by The Crownless Queen
Summary: "It's not entirely unexpected, but Luna's visit surprises Harry. She whirls in, coming out from the fireplace with nary a pause, and asks him on an adventure." Or in which Harry and Luna leave England after the war to find themselves, and end up finding more than that. For siriusbarks.


**I live in a city sorrow built**

It takes Harry one week after the fighting ends to start feeling restless. Of course, he doesn't know that's what it is at first.

No, of course not.

At first, he just finds himself looking out the window at Grimmauld's Place – where he now lives, partly for lack of anywhere else to go, partly because he starts feeling guilty whenever he is around anyone else for too long.

He visits Teddy and Andromeda every two days, the Weasleys and Hermione twice a week and meets up with nearly everyone else at least once a week in Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade or the Ministry (and so on) to help with the rebuilding and talk about how everyone's doing.

He's almost always busy, and he's always too tired to dream at night – on purpose, because he's not ready for the nightmares he know will come – but still, he feels like something's missing, and sometimes he almost catches himself wondering _'what if I could…'_ but he never lets himself finish that thought.

He does catch his eyes wandering on the world's maps Hermione pulls out when she tries to explain to Ron where her parents are and how they're going to get there – the Muggle way, because the war may be over but other magical countries' governments are still watching their borders closely for anyone trying to flee their way and bring conflict into their countries.

As always, Hermione is the first one to notice something's off, even before Harry himself does.

"You could come with us, you know," she tells him softly one day, and Harry's heart twinges with something almost like want.

"I can't," he winces. "I have…" _Ginny_ , he doesn't say, because using her as an excuse for this feels cheap somehow, and because they still haven't rekindled their relationship and if he's entirely honest with himself Harry isn't sure he wants to.

He still loves her, and he's so achingly _proud_ of the woman she's become that it takes his breath away sometimes, but he no longer feels the spark he used to when he looks into her eyes.

It would have been different if he had stayed, he thinks bitterly in his worse moments, but now they're both broken people – the war damaged them more than they were – and it feels like their broken edges no longer fit together the way they used to.

"Well, if you ever change your mind, you know where to find us," Hermione half-jokes, but that afternoon when they go their separate ways she pats Harry's shoulder and offers him a knowing smile.

Hogwarts will reopen in late September this year – almost a full month after it would usually have – and Harry feels almost in limbo waiting for that to happen.

He still has Kingsley's offer to join the Auror corps open on his kitchen's table, and McGonagall's to return to Hogwarts for his seventh year, and he knows that Hermione and Ron have taken those, but for some reason Harry can't.

He hasn't told anyone yet, but it comes up several times. For all of Hermione's cleverness, Harry knows she hasn't guessed at this yet.

The only one who seems to know something of Harry's indecisiveness is Andromeda, who gives him half-knowing, half-pitying smiles whenever she sees him, and who always tells him that whatever he does, she'll tell Teddy all about him as long as he doesn't forget them.

He has three months until the deadline for both offers come, and it grows nearer with each passing day, but Harry feels stuck.

 _(he never planned on surviving the war, he knows, and now that he has… Well, he has to remember how to live – no,_ learn _how to live without a shadow hanging over his shoulder – and he's growing surer that he won't be able to do that here, where everyone either worries about him or worships his every action)_

 _(in the end, Luna saves him)_

 **.x.**

It's not entirely unexpected, but Luna's visit surprises Harry.

She whirls in, coming out from the fireplace with nary a pause, and asks him on an adventure.

"We usually go looking for the Crumple-Horned Snorkack around this time of the year," she explains with a light smile that all but fades with her next words, "but well… Dad isn't feeling up to it this year, and I heard from Ronald that you didn't have anything else to do, and I thought you might enjoy the opportunity to leave. And who knows, maybe with you around, it'll finally show its face!"

Luna's made peace with her father's actions, Harry knows this. It was war, and not even Harry can blame him for putting his daughter's safety first. The only problem is that Xenophilius doesn't seem to be able to forgive himself yet.

Harry puts up a protest, of course, but before he knows it Luna has recruited Kreacher, who may still be his grumbling self, but can also see that his Master is moping around the house and needs something new.

"Master should go with the Loony girl, yes Master should," the old House-Elf says with a dark look that Harry knows from experience means pain if he disobeys.

Somehow, this all ends up with him carrying his shrunken suitcase in his pocket and leaving Kreacher to deliver a quick note to anyone who asks after him explaining his absence.

"Don't worry, we'll be back by September," she reassures him with a slight smile.

Behind him, he can feel Grimmauld Place's wards tighten back up now that no one inhabits the house anymore, and as Luna offers her hand to guide – or rather drag – him to their destination, Harry feels himself breathing fully for the first time in what feels like forever.

 **.x.**

They end up on a boat, and it takes Harry far too many hours to realize that it's a magical one. To be fair, he's never been on a non-magical boat before – the Dursleys would have rather died than take him on holiday with them after all – and even if he had, he imagines the differences aren't that obvious.

At first he thinks they're just crossing to France, since the boat doesn't seem to have any place to sleep in – at least not that he has seen, though he imagines that the captain, a lady with white hair and a skin aged by the exposure to the elements who greeted them with one of the thickest accent Harry's ever heard, has such a thing in her cabin.

The trip lasts too long for that though, and it seems to only be taking them further away from land instead of closer to it, and once he realizes that it's only a matter of minutes until he realizes that the boat's speed is much too great for it to be Muggle.

He finds Luna sitting with her legs dangling above the water, resting her arms against the railing and letting the salt water spray her face every now and then as she looks right into the inky depths they're travelling on.

For a moment, she looks so at peace she's almost otherworldly, and he feels bad about disturbing her.

He doesn't have to in the end though. She somehow sensed him coming – maybe she heard his footsteps or saw his reflection on the metal of the railing – and gestures at him to join her with a wide smile.

"Isn't this nice?"

It kind of is, to be perfectly honest. He hasn't left London for more than a couple of hours but he already feels lighter, unburdened somehow.

"the Nargles seem to have left your brain alone for now though, so you'll probably be fine, as long as you don't let them back in," Luna lectures seriously.

Almost against his will, Harry feels his lips quirk up. "I'll try to do that then, Luna,' he replies, humming softly to himself and reclining until he's lying down on the floor of the ship.

Seconds later, Luna does the same.

"Where are we going anyway?" Harry finally asks when his curiosity gets away from him. "I thought magical transports weren't allowed in or out of Britain until everything was cleared with Kingsley, and this is clearly a magical transport."

Luna shrugs. "Nobody was going to stop _you_ from leaving the country for a while. I asked Hermione and she said you needed something to do and then it was time for the annual Crumple-Horned Snorkack's hunt, and I just thought you might enjoy it. Besides, I think that ban is just for stopping, you know, Death Eaters from leaving the country more than anything else.

"As for where we're going…" She starts, her tone turning mischievous, "well, that's gonna be a surprise. But we'll be there soon."

Sensing that this is the best answer he's going to get out of his blonde friend, Harry simply sighs and try to relax. He ate not long before Luna dropped by and dragged him off into the wild so he's not hungry yet, but he doesn't remember seeing any food getting packed up. Hopefully they'll get to their destination before that becomes relevant.

 **.x.**

Atlantis. Luna had brought him to Atlantis.

Everyone, even Muggles knew about Atlantis. There were legends about it. But what Muggles didn't know, if they even believed Atlantis had ever existed in the first place, was that Atlantis hadn't sunk beneath the sea at all.

No, in fact it was right where it had always been – a magical floating city in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, anchored there by the ley lines and some truly wondrous wizarding work. Most of the specifics had been lost to time, but rumor had it that six hundred and sixty six wizards and witches had given their lives and blood to make the city as safe as magically possible, and even now, thousands of years later, those protections hadn't faltered a single time, protecting its inhabitants from the elements as well as detection.

Atlantis was a magical country like no other, because unlike every other magical country which had been built atop or in the middle of the Muggle world, Atlantis existed outside of it.

The city is also the most beautiful thing Harry has ever rested his eyes upon. Though it feels slightly like blasphemy to him to even think it, he can't help but compare the silvery towering gates up ahead with his first vision of Hogwarts, and find that the ancient castle comes up lacking.

The city they're slowly entering has a weirdly futuristic look that is at odd with what Harry knows of the wizarding world and its love for old traditions. It looks almost anachronistic, the tall buildings almost an exact match for some of the pictures Harry once glimpsed in one of Dudley's science fictions novels, before those books were thrown out by Aunt Petunia.

The people don't even spare a glance their way too aside from the officials making sure everything is in order – he trusts Luna to have everything ready there, and surprisingly enough (or maybe not, she may seem air-headed at times, but she did say she had been doing this with her father for years now) she does – and it feels so freeing Harry is almost afraid he's going to float away.

He had forgotten that feeling of awe he had gotten upon first entering the magical world for the first time, said feeling having been covered up only too easily with the duty heaped onto his shoulders and the scorn and adoration thrown his way.

But here… Here he is free to be just Harry, which is what he always wanted, and may just be what he needs right now.

Besides him, Luna watches him from the corner of her eyes as pays the captain who brought them here, and smiles.

 **.x.**

The market place in Atlantis is even more enchanting than the one in Diagon Alley. Part of it is how much more open it is – wizards and witches mingle openly with magical creatures under the light blue summer sky – but another is also the greater variety of shops.

Harry knows that there are other Alleys in London, Knockturn not included, where one can shop for all sorts of things, but to him they've always felt kind of like a poorly kept secret. A shameful secret.

He wandered there a few times, and never felt any of the magic he did in Diagon's Alley. In the end, he never lingered for more than a few minutes. He kind of regrets that now though. If the shops there are even half as diverse and interesting as they are here, he has been missing out on a lot.

Aside from the usual books, clothes and school-related shops Harry expected from his experience in London, there are bars and restaurants, some of them promising views of the sea and sightings of wild creatures such as the sea serpent who supposedly circled around the island.

From the street, Harry could see people being served tall colorful drinks, some of them sparkling or emitting animal-shaped smoke while the customers chose their meals from a menu Harry couldn't see.

One shop boasts about offering anything a wizard or witch might need to travel all around the world, while another, with his eye-catching exterior and mouth-watering smells, reminds Harry of a cross between the Weasley twins' shop and Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour.

They find lodging in an hotel completely unlike any other Harry has ever seen – not that he has seen a lot of hotels outside of the glimpses from television or the catalogues the Dursleys left lying around to make him feel bad, but it is still different from anything Harry has ever experienced.

The service at the Leaky Cauldron, while decidedly good and magical, pales in comparison. The interior of the rooms Luna found for them is gleaming, the covers on the bed and towels impossibly soft, the windows picture any setting Harry can ever want, from the simple normal transparent setting that can also be adjusted to let only a certain amount of light in, to more exotic settings.

Luna immediately sets hers to what looks like a tropical forest, and almost immediately the walls change to earthly colors, until it almost looks like she's camping in the middle of the forest.

Having had enough of forests for just about the rest of his life, Harry opts to keep the normal setting, but he does request for the ceiling to be charmed with stars in a similar way to the Hogwarts' Great Hall ceiling.

He doesn't even need to unpack – House Elves, who are part of the staff, do it for him.

All in all, it doesn't take them long to settle in, and after that Luna explains what their plans are.

"I've been thinking that maybe the reason why we haven't found the Crumple-Horned Snorkack yet is because we've only been looking on the ground and haven't considered the possibility that it might be living underwater," she tells him passionately.

Refraining from pointing out that they also haven't considered that said creature might not exist at all after all, Harry nods along.

"Anyway, Atlantis has one of the greatest colonies of sea creatures in the world, and even more opportunities to observe the depths of the ocean in search of more. This is the perfect starting point."

Recalling his last adventures underwater, Harry shivers. Still, this time should be different. He's not alone for one, and there's nothing suggesting that anything is about to go wrong. He is just on holidays with a friend, and there is no trouble to find them there.

"Sounds good," he finally acquiesces, and tries to calm his mind. Nothing bad is going to happen, he whispers to himself, and together he and Luna head back into Atlantis to look for a restaurant.

 **.x.**

Nothing of note happens that week. They take Gillyweed to go underwater – the Atlanteans apparently grow it all year round so it's not even that expensive – and search there for hours. They never find any of Luna's creatures, but her enthusiasm never wavers, and slowly and almost against his will, Harry finds that he is actually enjoying himself.

They eat at a different restaurant for every meal for two weeks and they still haven't been to all of those present on the island. Sometimes it feels like new places pop up out of nowhere, there one moment and gone the next – which actually is entirely too possible with magic - and Harry feels like an almost normal teenager for once.

One night they decide to get drunk testing bubbling concoction after bubbling concoction and they wander from bar to bar, asking for their best cocktails. Harry has some odd recollections of a pink drink that made him spew out conjured butterflies and of Luna drinking a sparkling yellow-streaked green drink that changed her speech into what he thinks is supposed to be Parseltongue.

 _(the rest of the night fades into memory of laughter and stumbling steps in the dark, but this he remembers: Luna's hair glowing in the fading light, and their shadows stretching like wings behind their backs, and the thought that he's never known anyone closer to divinity and probably never will._

 _He almost kisses her then, he thinks, but the memory slips through his mental fingers like smoke._

 _Still, it's the best night – the best moment – he's had in a long time)_

 **.x.**

In the rare occasions where Harry dreams in ways he can remember these days, his dreams are of the dead; or maybe for the dead, he can't quite say.

He always finds himself standing in a cemetery, or at least he guesses it is a cemetery.

The place is empty and barren, dead trees the only thing visible in the distance and a heavy mist obscuring the grounds.

There are people behind him, he can feel them, but when he turns there is never anyone there. The presences don't feel threatening or alarming, but they don't feel _nice_ either. In fact, they don't feel like anything. They're just there, behind him, a haunting feeling too powerful for words.

He walks aimlessly, the mist parting in front of him like the sea in front of Moses.

Sometimes, he wakes up then, the shadowy edges of the dream still clinging to his mind.

Others, he keeps on walking until he stumbles on something, a body left there to rot, a fallen warrior one could mistake for sleeping if not for the gaping hole where his heart should be, bits of flesh hanging from a skull frozen in a grotesque parody of a smile.

 _(those are the worst nights, the nights he wakes up with a scream trapped behind his lips, cold sweat burning on his back)_

And finally, one night, he finds the grave.

It's not his parents' grave, he knows, nor is it the grave for anyone else he knows.

It's only a false relief though, because a single glance is enough to tell Harry who the grave belongs to.

There is no sign on the grave, like on the Dumbledore's he saw at Godric's Hollow, nor is there a cryptic message like on his parents' grave, nor is there even a name, but nonetheless Harry knows whose grave it is just by looking at it.

It's a feeling deep in his bones, a powerful knowing that every soul encounters one day, he thinks.

This is his grave, his final resting place. The place he escaped so narrowly just months ago, only thanks to plots hatched years ago by Dumbledore on a desperate hope to save him.

He stands there for a long time, it seems, and everything stands still. There is no wind there, no sound but the ones Harry himself makes. The world seems to have only been painted in shades of grey, as if any color would take something important, something vital away from it.

He kneels at some point, tracing his name on the marble stela as if the action will put it there, and lays flowers there, a silent prayer for the boy he was, for the boy who walked to his death so freely, to find his way back to him, the Harry left behind.

 _(but the dead don't come back to life, and there aren't two different Harrys – they both came back or none of them did, and though Harry knows there with his heart, mind and soul, somedays he isn't so sure which answer is true)_

And then he wakes up.

He feels lighter somehow, like a shadow has been lifted off his shoulders, and for the first time in a while, he feels alive from the moment he wakes up.

 **.x.**

He gets better after that, able to think back on the war without feeling haunted by the losses it caused, able to remember Fred and George' laughter without constantly hearing George's pleas in front of his brother's body, without thinking 'if I had been faster, given up myself earlier, would he have been saved?'.

It's not easy and it's not a fast process, but it happens.

Luna helps, with her smile and laughter and ever-present enthusiasm, even though he knows she has as many nightmares as he does.

They talk about it sometimes, in the early hours of the day or the late hours of the night, when it feels like nothing bad can ever get to them again.

Slowly, they heal, and that's all they could ever ask for, isn't it?

 _(and yes, they kiss, and more; a slow discovery of the other's body until they can map it as well as their own, until they can't quite tell where one of them begins and the other ends)_

 _(in the end, Luna saves him)_


End file.
